


A Goddess Summoned

by asarahworld



Series: The Doctor and Rose Tyler [57]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Write-It-Motherfuckers prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asarahworld/pseuds/asarahworld
Summary: After years of not ageing and being alone while everyone else found their soulmates, you manage to get your hands on a spell to summon yours. You just weren’t expecting it to be a god.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler
Series: The Doctor and Rose Tyler [57]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/670895
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	A Goddess Summoned

**Author's Note:**

> The Doctor’s gone a bit TLV. I think (???) this might be Eleven, but I’m not sure. Prompt adapted to fit Whoniverse canon.

His breath caught in his throat as she stepped lightly towards the door of the TARDIS. He gaped, his mouth forming words, but nothing sounded.

She laughed, and he swore that it was the most beautiful thing that he’d ever heard. Somehow, against all odds, whatever that woman had done had worked. She was here. Rose was here. Her whiskey eyes glowed golden and he found himself reaching out for her, to help her, to die once more to save her from herself.

“Bad Wolf won’t kill me, Doctor,” she told him, stepping onto the ship. “How could she? I am her, and she has been waiting for me.”

They’d told him that he would find his soulmate in the tunnel, dare he enter. And how could he have possibly refused them? Hadn’t he just saved their planet? Ten minutes ago, he’d thought himself a god, benevolent and helping those who had needed it. And now, here he was, facing the only being whom he had ever believed in.

His mind was racing, too many thoughts for even a Time Lord to follow. “Rose,” he finally allowed himself to breathe her name, so quietly that it was barely audible. He reached out reverently, as if to touch her face, but dropped his hand almost immediately. “No, of course it’s not Rose. Stupid Doctor, always reaching for things that aren’t there.” He had long since accepted that he would always end up alone. Everybody always left. Even her.

“Yes,” she said simply.

“No, you’re not and stop using her image to patronise me.”

She advanced on him, and he backed away, sinking into the jumpseat without breaking eye contact with her.

“Doctor,” she began, but he jumped up and cut her off.

“If you’re Rose Tyler, then how did you get here? Because it certainly wasn’t with me. Your roots are showing and your hair is nothing like I’ve ever seen Rose Tyler wear, your face has lines in it that no twenty year-old woman has, and there’s no possible way that you could have come through and I wouldn’t have known about it.”

“If I wasn’t Rose Tyler, how would I know that she was named after Gran Prentice’s favourite flowers? How would I know about Gran Prentice?” She snapped back. “Did you know that about Rose Tyler?”

The Doctor had to admit that he didn’t. He stared up at her in awe, at this golden goddess in whom he believed. “Rose Tyler,” he breathed her name, felt every syllable roll off his tongue, the rolling of her first name contrasting with the sharpness of Tyler. She looked at him and somehow, she softened. “When will you leave me?” The question is petulant, nearly childish, and yet how could he not ask? Everybody always left. (He ignored the small voice in the back of his head saying that Rose always came back.)

“In time. As you will leave me.” She broke out into a grin, as if excited by the prospect.

The Doctor shook his head. He was too old for this.

“No, my Doctor. You will see, in time.” She drew closer once more, gently pulling him back down onto the jumpseat. The Doctor stilled at her touch, how her hand rested almost exactly over his right heart.

He tried to say her name again, but could not. He turned to the TARDIS, fumbling for a switch. His hearts skipped as he read the data. She was real. She was Rose Tyler, down to the smallest atom. “How?”

“I don’t know. But does it matter, Doctor?”

His hearts twisted every time she used his name. Her eyes, brimming of love (love for him, no less), were holding his, her head tilted, mouth slightly parted. She was here. Shouldn’t that be enough?


End file.
